


Technicolor

by nathyfaith



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: F/M, I will live in denial for the rest of my life, Ichabbie Week, Ichabbie Weekend, Soulmates, Tumblr Prompt, black and white world
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 18:34:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8256124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/pseuds/nathyfaith
Summary: It's been like these for centuries, you were practically colorblind from the moment you were born until the moment you met your soulmate, some were very lucky and met their love in their young age, learning all it's perks and fears, helping and growing together, others had it rough, the love was obsessive and often turned into despair. Ichabod had learned from a very  young age that telling his parents, his mentors and his friends precisely what they wanted to hear was the answer to all of his troubles, but his world would turn upside down the moment he met Miss Grace Abigail Mills.Abbie never cared much for this stupid color system, but sometimes, even she had to admit she was jealous of all this love fest, even the Lieutenant in her had to admit she wanted and wished for star cross lovers.





	1. Apathetic Colors

**Author's Note:**

> I wanna thank my Sleppy Hollow squad for being awesome and encouraging me!  
> You know who you are and I love you all! 
> 
> Enjoy the road!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ichabod POV's.

He has never really cared for colors, always thought it was a fairy tale cooked up by his family - bless his grandmother’s heart - and his most beloved friend and inventor Benjamin Franklin, but the later insisted that eventually one day he would see it for himself.

Crane was losing his hope, he didn’t mind for silly prophecies or children’s fairy tales, he had grown fond of the blackness and the apathetic colors surrounding him.

Katrina had entered his life in an odd kind of way, her eyes called to him, and for once he thought he had seen what his friend often talked about, it was different, bright and of the same color as the trees’ leaves, he had found his Promised One, however, it still felt as if something was amiss.

He might have found happiness with Katrina, but colors as such as Franklin had old told him about were quite unfathomable to him. Yes, he could distinguish blue from green, but barely, as if  all was blurred and foggy as if a constant veil was cast upon his eyes.

But with the war, the blood on his hands, the loss of his life, colorfulness had again been taken away from him, as he closed his eyes to his death all was again cast in a black and white atmosphere.

As he blinked in a world he was yet to know, his surroundings were dark, but in a different kind of dark, not entirely black, but weirdly colored. He stood on his feet and for once in his life when he stared down at his hands he was surprised by how clear they looked, warm even, how very curious.

He got up, ran out from wherever he was and fell into a river, the stones had color, was this grey? Maroon? On, and the trees! How lovely they were! He blinked, blinked and blinked, taking in his surroundings, it was all so colorful.

Mesmerizing.

But how? Why? There was no one around, nothing but the quiet forest.

Was it real? Could it possibly be that his soulmate was here? Somewhere in this strange era?

Franklin’s words echoed in his mind, _"One day, my friend, you'll meet someone who will turn your world upside down and this pallid existence you have known so far will change drastically."_

But so far, he had been badly handled, thrown into some sort of vehicle, handcuffed, then thrown into a cell and marvel at it, threatened. It was ridiculous  if he dared say it.

This soulmate person better be worth all this trouble.


	2. Floral Patterns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie's POV.

If she were to be completely sincere this day was getting weirder by the second. It had started with how her curtains were suddenly filled with this weird combination of floral patterns, and she was absolutely certain she hadn’t bought such a hideous thing.

Then, as the day went by Abbie started to think that she was positively going insane, after all since when the trees were... _what was that color again_? Could she call that of a color? What was that in on the leaves and on the ground, in the sky?

All this time and she had never, ever seen any ounce of color, why suddenly now, she could?

_Please, world, don’t let me be bound to a newborn child._

 When it happened with Jenny she was worried that perhaps Corbin would be angry, or perhaps Joe wouldn’t notice, but as he grew up, it was clear as day that he loved her sister and Jenny didn’t have to hide from her feelings any longer. They had been dating before he went to Iraq and Abbie had seen first hand how pure, easy and blinding a soulmate love could be and she had seen the other side too, in gruesome murders and relationships that went south in the worst way imaginable.

She wished her fears were childish as some of her sisters: _“What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”_ or _“Maybe he expects me to be blonde with baby blue eyes.”_ or even _“What if he doesn’t like you, Abbie? I ain’t having a soulmate if he doesn’t adore you as much as I do.”_

She missed how close she was with Jenny before she went abroad for one of the many works Corbin had given her and it bothered Abbie that she was so damn secretive about it all, they used to tell everything to each other.

Oh, boy, Abbie was due to a big surprise.

 


	3. Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A view of Ichabod's childhood and adult life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all enjoy this chapter! Bring on your theories and thoughts ;)

From the very first moment he could decode and comprehend the spoken languages, Ichabod had heard all about colors, what they were, how they looked, the feeling they sparked, how his blue eyes were the color of the bluest sky. But truth was, that for this young lad, colors were nothing more than a concept.  He thought of them as a figment of the imagination rather than what his loving parents insisted on telling him…colors were real and essential to everyone’s life.

Mother did her best to instruct him about the color of every living thing, but flowers were her passion and soon it became Ichabod’s obsession to please his mother and her excitement over each flower and what its color meant.

Her melodic voice carried in the wind, _“Here, my darling boy. This is a pink carnation, isn’t it beautiful?”_

It was beautiful, yes, but melancholic. At least, it was for him.

His mother’s smile was contagious and he’d smile back, learning at a very young age that saying exactly what his parents expected from him was a lot easier than telling them, _“no, mama, I cannot see its color”_ or _“no, papa, I cannot understand why you love this particular maroon coat so much,”_ especially since he overheard his mother confess to his father that it was disturbing to think their precious boy could not see colors as every human child did.

Father had assured her in hushed tones, _“Maybe Ichabod’s Promised One hasn’t been born yet. Give it time, my love. I’m sure she will.”_ And his mother nodded, sighing into his father’s embrace as he kissed the top of her head lovingly.

Ichabod wanted to know the true story behind the color system, so when his parents weren’t looking he searched for his second favorite person after his mother, his grandmother, who would often be found walking around the fields, collecting flowers.

He ran until he found her, sitting underneath a tree, reading lazily. He adored his grandmother. She had the most gracious heart he had ever known and he knew she wouldn’t lie or look at him funny if he questioned her plain and simple.

“Grandmother, can I ask you something?” his childish voice was carried through the light breeze touching his grandmother’s ears.

“You just did, darling,” she answered him, a gentle smile on her lips, patting the empty place at her side.

He sat down, his curls bouncing up and down as he looked up at his grandmother’s face.

“What do you need, my dearest child?” her blue eyes shone as the sunlight caught on them. He scooted closer to her and she closed the book and let it rest over her legs as she hugged him to her side.

“You promise not to say anything to mama and papa? It has to be a secret,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“Of course, child. Go on.” she nodded, encouraging him to share his so called secret.

“I don’t see colors. Mama talks about them and so does papa, but I never told them I don’t actually see any. Why don’t I see them, grandmother?” he asked her, voice trembling with emotion.

“Ichabod,” she stated, her voice soft as velvet, “my darling, darling, boy, perhaps your soulmate hasn’t been born yet.” she tried reasoning with him.

“But, I’m eight years old already! Where could she possibly be?” he whined, holding his tears, feeling defeated.

“The soulmate system can be cruel, my boy. Colors are only seen if the person who is destined to be yours has been born in this time and in this location. I’m afraid that hasn’t happened yet,” she reasoned with him, combing his hair with her fingers.

“What if I get really old and I never meet her?” he wondered out loud in a tiny voice.

“That’s not possible, Ichabod.” She cradled his small face inside her hands and locked eyes with him, “You will meet her and you will love her. Give it time, my boy.” She kissed his forehead and hugged him affectionately.

***

Through the years Ichabod learned to accept and appreciate things for what they looked, rather than the color they showed since pink and all the other colors discussed by friends and family were apathetic dull colors to him.

He grew skeptic and decided that waiting for a fairytale was a waste of time and that he should work to reach his goals, but it was so hard to concentrate sometimes, especially when one of his most beloved masters talked nonstop about the soulmates theory and how the colors finally appeared when once you have met said person.

Franklin insisted it was not normal for him to not see any ounce of color, there had to exist a reasonable explanation as to why Ichabod experienced this phenomenon. How could he go on with his life blind to colors? Ichabod dismissed Franklin with a wave of his hand and asked him to focus on what they were working on. He could figure out his so called destiny later.


	4. Allow Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie starts to see colors, what could have possibly happen?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up to my adorable and patient beta @sleepymr (my life savior)

When Katrina came into his life he imagined he could finally see colors, that she was his soulmate and they would be together forever. _Oh_ , but how so very wrong he was, so very wrong. Nothing could have prepared him for the assault of colors he received as he woke up in this new era. The colors were alive, fresh, and coming out of everywhere.

He was so very surprised as he stared at his own hands, so different from the dull color he was used to seeing. His trousers were…what was that called? Was this the color brown his mother had told him about, _oh_ , so many times?

Was this what Franklin had told him about?

The colors so full and vibrant, why and rather…how? He closed his eyes and thought how these colors were so different from what he had settled for with Katrina. They weren’t muted or fogged, they were almost tasteful. And what in the world had been that thing on the ground or all those colors on the officer's’ clothes? Also, what kind of trickery was this he was sitting on? He bet it was some devilish thing sent to get him.

He couldn’t stop moving his hands in the sunlight just so he could see the flash of - _what was this color?_ \- catch in his eye. This was ridiculous. He was being detained for whatever reason the officer had told him and also being committed and to make matters worse there was no one in this era coming to vouch for him. Outrageous!

***

Abbie had never particularly trusted the color soulmate system, it was quite the bullshit thing for this lieutenant. But as she talked to her mentor and friend August Corbin as he gently ate his pie and ice-cream, suddenly there was something awkward about it. She wasn’t particularly fond of even learning the name of the colors, even though her mother had told her countless times how the light of the sun shone brightly in her dark curly hair and almond skin.

“Corbin?” she asked, staring at her pie, confusion written all over her face.

“What’s up, kid?” he replied.

“When did you started seeing colors?” Abbie asked as she absentmindedly played with her fork.

“I always saw them, Abbie; but when I met Joe’s mom, it was just an explosion of colors, so vibrant, so alive. Why do you ask?” he queried, tilting his head slightly.

“I think my ice-cream just got a bit…I don’t know, weirdly colored?” she shrugged, her nose wrinkling in confusion.

“That’s cream, the color of ice-cream is cream, at least the vanilla one is.” he told her, his brow arched in confusion, and added, “I always thought you could see colors, you never mentioned not seeing them.”

“I never believed in the soulmates system, I thought it was just a myth parents told their children…” Abbie shrugged, letting her fork rest at the side of her plate.

“And suddenly, now you do?” Corbin sounded almost hopeful.

“It is known you can only see color, at least a fraction of it if your soulmate is in the same place or area that you are, so I can only assume my promised one has been just born or move into the city. I’ll gladly take the latter option.” she snorted, giving him a sealed lip smile.

“Yes, I know your sister and my son were truly fortunate on this system, perhaps you  just need a little more time.” he said winking at her and picking his coffee mug.

“You've been strange enough as it is.” she murmured, stealing his mug and putting down. “You’ve been drinking way too much coffee.”

“I'm just saying, aren't you gonna miss all the excitement?” Corbin asked.

“Quantico takes only two hundred and forty a year. It’s the FBI's only feeder program.” Abbie rolled her eyes, biting her lower lip.

“I’m not running away if that’s what you’re thinking.” she smiled, and added, “Hey, your pie's soup, old man.”

He shook his head, smiling despite her antics. Such a curious woman was his partner.

“Time’s up.” she said, grabbing some money and putting on the table, “It's on me.”

As they entered the car, Abbie’s radio beeped, the station was informing her of some animal disturbance at Fox Creek Stables.

“We’re on it. And this is why I got into police work.” She laughed as Corbin started the car and said, “You’re gonna miss this, I tell you.”

If Abbie had known this would be the last time she would see her mentor, she would have looked at him more closely, taken in the gray color of his hair, the green of his eyes, the way the lights danced on his face, the rosy color of his cheeks. Now all she could see was the bright red of his blood dancing behind her eyelids.

And she had seen a redcoat, _without a head_. A headless man, on a horse. _Riding it_.

Suddenly she was starting to hope colors weren’t a thing now because it was a lot easier when everything was black and white or gray and she didn’t have to take notice of red stained hands and uniforms.

She sighed as Andy informed her of a strange man dressed in colonial clothes, who might be a suspect in Corbin’s murder. Abbie finally turned her attention to him, noticed his Asian eyes red with unshed tears, his skin color somehow not entirely white, but if she were to compare he had the same color as the ice-cream Corbin had been eating mere hours ago. She blinked noticing how incredibly boring the station really was, everything was greenish yellow, gray or maroon, it was tasteless in a color sense. Her own uniform wasn’t much colorful either, a khaki tone with enough pockets to carry all her things.  

Andy stood behind her as she looked at the man cuffed inside the cell, his head down. That was all the giveaway she needed to step closer to the cell.

“You sure? I know this isn't easy, Abbie, but please take a closer look,” Andy pleaded.

“Andy, I'm sure. The man I saw was wearing some kind of old military uniform, like, uh a red coat. He had something on his hand. I don't know, like a branding.” She explained, now watching with growing interest the man sitting in the cell, his dirty hair and clothes, his fidgeting hands, his long stature.

She felt like the air had been sucked out of her when he raised his face and asked, “Did he carry a broadax?”

“What?” She asked astonished.

“A broadax, did he carry it?” Abbie swallowed her surprise as she walked closer to the cell, somehow the colors surrounding this particular man becoming stronger, until her eyes locked on his piercing blue ones, robbing her of her own breath.

He stood up, astonished as herself was and walked closer to the bars, tilting his head and licking his lips, he murmured, “Allow me to help you, Leftenant.”

 


	5. Sunshine In Your Hair

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between escaping asylums, digging graves and watching friends die, a vow is made.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A special thank you for @sleepymr and @irishlullaby for beta-reading this chapter, you are both life saviors!!  
> Love you, sweethearts!
> 
> Vee, Soph, Lolo thank you so much for all the laughs and support! 
> 
> PS: Sorry for the long wait, I got caught up with the Christmas fic and RL in general. Enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think! xoxo

It was hard to wrap his head around this whole situation. First, he was dead and then he had somehow time travelled and now this tiny woman, surely not more than 5'1" just told him she was authorized to use her gun...ON HIM! Her gun! In his time she would have been prosecuted or worse had she even dared speak loudly to him. This new world was strange and yet somehow, he was mesmerized by her.

Times had changed and hopefully, as he always had imagined, for the better. Yet, he was certain he had insulted her and wanted to make amends, but how when he felt as lost as a puppy?

Abbie wanted his help, she had said as much, but still, here he was sitting in her vehicle as they passed many - what did she call them? - Starbuck’s establishments. He noticed the Lieutenant’s hair was a dark shade of brown and her matching dark eyes danced in the light. Franklin had been right, this was nothing compared to what he had with Katrina. Since he had met Abbie, everything was more colorful. He blinked and kept playing with the vehicle’s window. It was fascinating. So much to learn, what else could possibly exist in this strange era?

Abbie’s footsteps could be heard from behind him as they went back to his tomb - if it could even be called that - and she handed him the most curious of objects. “It’s like a gun,” she explained commanding and strong. “You point and shoot.”

He touched the front of the object as a light poured forth, hoping it would not burn him, only to discover that it did no harm whatsoever. As he walked deeper into the musty chamber he heard her soft voice as she catalogued the contents with yet another device and spoke softly into it with her impressions of what she was observing. He bent down to retrieve a large book, wiping the layers of dirt away and realized with some trepidation that it was a Bible. And further, upon opening it, recognized this was no mere bible, but Washington’s own!

He watched as her eyes followed his hand while he traced and read the words from the Book of Revelation. The Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. He felt her incredulity in the way she said, “Oh, see c’mon!” as if it was and completely and utterly absurd, but as he added more details of what he had already experienced...the Horseman’s bow and broadax...his own death...she voiced what her mind was currently screaming inside of her, “Okay, now, this IS crazy.”

He tried to appeal to her with what he believed was his perfect logic but that was clearly a mistake for she simply turned her body towards the entrance way. “Field trip is over, let’s go”.

How incredibly stubborn she was! Well, what could he expect of his true love? He was known to be equally as stubborn. They drove in quiet companionship and when they arrived back at the church it was already packed with police. Abbie asked him to stay put, but honestly, red failed how could he? Leave her alone now that he knew how vital she was to him?

How incredibly stubborn she was! Well, what could he expect of his true love? He was known to be equally as stubborn. They drove in quiet companionship and when they arrived back at the church it was already packed with police. Abbie asked him to stay put, but honestly, how could he? Leave her alone now that he knew how vital she was to him?

She locked the vehicle so he could not escape. What kind of sorcery did she possess? Ichabod watched through the window, resigned until a red-tailed hawk landed on the front of the vehicle. It seemed to want to show him something as it flew off in the direction of the church’s cemetery. He managed to figure out the door lock and followed the bird even though the flickering of the red and blue lights from the police vehicles bothered his sensitive irises.  He felt compelled to know where the bird was leading him.

Abbie did not appreciate being dressed down by her superior, but she needed to convince him of Crane’s innocence. She sighed, though Crane probably could be of assistance, in this case, trying to convince Captain Irving that the Horseman of Death was real would most likely get her thrown into her own private cell at the asylum alongside Crane.

Abbie held her tongue and went back to find Crane. She spotted him near gravestone at the same time the other officers did and talked them out of arresting him on the spot. She whirled toward Crane, fire in her eyes and practically shouted, “I told you to stay in the car.”

And suddenly they were at each other’s throats; Abbie trying to make it all go way, ignore a familiar feeling of dread creeping inside her soul and Crane telling her this was meant to be, practically begging her to trust him, to believe his words, to explain that their destinies were entwined now.

Before today she was on her way OUT of Sleepy Hollow and all of this supernatural crap just wasn’t in her plans. It didn’t help to have Mister “I’ve crawled out of a Revolutionary War grave” telling her that her “destiny” was with him and staring at her like she was his world. _Lord, give me strength_ , she silently prayed.

What was so hard for him to understand? She wanted no part in this! She wanted no part in becoming delusional and incapable of explaining things that most assuredly were NOT real, things that went bump up in the night and only crazy people believed! Why was he able to pull her strings, push her buttons so hard? This had to end now. “Hey, I don't need to be psychoanalyzed, or whatever your version is, by a man who thinks that only yesterday he was fighting for George Washington in the Revolutionary War. I'm sorry, but I need more, and we both need sleep.”

Crane walked in front of her, his hands clasped tightly behind his back in a pose that most certainly was common to him on his day. When they arrived at the psychiatric hospital, the guard opened the door to the room and Crane calmly walked in. Abbie noticed how everything was overly white, bathed in glaring fluorescent light and what seemed a sickly shade of pale green on the walls. Abbie refrained from sharing her thoughts on how the place felt numb and sterilized as the smell of cleaning products reached her nostrils. She thanked the guard and focused her attention on Crane, explaining, “Well, at least I got you your own cell,” and added, “It's the best I could do.”

He seemed to consider whether to smile or not as he walked toward the small bed. He thanked her and added, “It's a measurable step up from the cave.”

Damn him, just a few hours together hours and he was already penetrating her carefully built walls. And for some reason, she decided to share her story... about the fateful day and the shortcut through the woods with her sister, Jenny, about the white trees and the strange presence she saw and felt. Abbie told him how her sister believed the supernatural they saw was real and how Jenny was battling her own demons in a place just like the one he was in now. The guard returned to inform them it was time for “lights out.” Abbie agreed and thanked the guard while looking directly at Crane, into eyes that were kinder and bluer than she’d ever noticed before. She blinked when a silly thought came to her mind, _the bluest eyes to ever be blue._

“I suppose this is farewell, Leftenant,” Crane said in a soft voice that was beginning to melt all her walls. _But why did he insist on calling her_ _Lieutenant in that manner?_

“You can call me Abbie,” she replied with a smile as she turned to leave.

Crane let her name and voice wash over him for a second before he said, “I am very sorry about your partner.” He watched her nod, a mix of emotions playing over her beautiful face, and then she was gone, the door closed behind her.

He thought about the comforting colors she wore, her soft-toned skin, her dark chocolate eyes, her luminous hair. He sighed loudly as he lay down and stared up at the all too white ceiling and fell asleep, her face dancing behind his eyelids.

When she returned to the police station, Abbie entered Sheriff Corbin’s office, hoping to find something that could help her, give her some clue, anything that might explain any of the strange things that had happened in the past 24 hours. As she picked up a favorite framed photograph on his desk she found a key taped to the back which led her to seek and find a hidden drawer in his file cabinet.

A treasure trove of unclosed cases of the supernatural, a recorder with Corbin’s voice about those cases, maps and more revealed themselves and Abbie eagerly roamed over the documents, finding each one more strange and alien than the next. She quickly put everything away, a heavy feeling of guilt and exhaustion suddenly crushing her insides. Abbie had just closed the hidden drawer when Captain Irving called from the entrance door, “What are you doing?”

Feeling like a deer caught in the headlights, Abbie retorted, “I was just looking through old case files for something that might help.” She shrugged. “There’s nothing here.”

Captain Irving glanced at her, and affirmed in a flat tone, “Look, I'm not gonna say this again.  Let us do our job. Get some rest.”

She nodded, the colors still taking her by surprise every time she saw a person in a different light, now they seemed almost tamed and calmer than when she was with Crane. She answered him as she left Sheriff’s Corbin room, “Thank you, sir.” 

***

Ichabod woke up, rising from the somewhat comfortable bed and took in his surroundings. He immediately heard Katrina’s voice calling his name. He walked over to the mirror on the wall and could see her through a kind of mist. Katrina called to him again, “Ichabod, my love, I had to reach you and this was the only way.”

“What?” He asked as confusion washed over him. It took him by surprise that Katrina looked quite vibrant to him now, even through the misty fog surrounding them. Her hair was a deep shade of port wine, flowing in the wind, her black dress dark as a crow’s eye and for the first time, Ichabod noticed how her eyes were the same color of as fresh forest ferns.

“We do not have much time, my love. I need you to listen to me very carefully,” Katrina explained Ichabod nodded, turning his head slightly towards the door, hoping no one was coming to check on him.

“It’s about Abigail. You know her or might have met her by now. You need to know if the colors started to appear to you, then you have found your soulmate again.”

“You lied to me, Katrina. You deceived me, you are a witch!” Ichabod accused.

“Yes, I am. But you need to understand, it was a means to an end,” Katrina vowed and continued in a hurried way, “We buried you in that cave to protect you. The Evil that trapped me here is the same one which controls the Horseman and that’s the reason you have awakened. Your blood mixed with the Horseman of Death on that fateful day and when he rose, so did you.”

Ichabod wanted to ask her how she was able to reach him - how did she know what she knew - but he stood by quietly when she reached out her hand and said, “You had a cook in your home when you were a young child, do you remember?”

Ichabod closed his eyes for a second, the image forming behind his eyelids.

_She was a beautiful dark skinned woman, with kind eyes and a round pregnant belly - her name was Emma - she always came when mother wasn’t feeling well and today was one of those days._

_Ichabod remembered the feel of Emma’s gentle fingers when she ruffled his hair, he wanted to touch her belly, talk to the baby, listen to the noises it made back and wondered if it would interact with him._

_Emma encouraged him, allowing him to rest his head on her belly and talk to the child inside._

Ichabod opened his eyes to find Katrina staring at him. “Do you understand now?”

“Emma’s child was Abigail? But Emma’s baby died just after she was born, she couldn’t breathe on her own no matter what Emma or any of the other nurses did.”

“Yes. Emma was cursed by another witch who was jealous of the love Emma shared with her soulmate and wanted her to feel the pain that witch felt when her enchantment failed to imprison Emma’s lover and keep him to herself. The witch cursed them both that if a child was ever conceived, then that child would perish during the same moon as when she entered this world.”

Ichabod sighed, “I have found Abigail now and I will not allow another person to play with our lives.”

“You are entwined, Ichabod. Forever. For you are the First Witness of the Apocalypse and she is the Second. Cherish her, show her she can rely on you, that you won’t ever give up on her and she will open herself to you.”

“Katrina, where are you?” He questioned, curiosity getting the best of him.

“It does not matter. Keep her safe. Moloch is coming and he won’t stop until he unleashes chaos on Sleepy Hollow.”

“Oh! Moloch has found us!” She said alarmed, fear showing in her features.

“Tell me how to stop him!” Ichabod cried out but Katrina was starting to fade away, the fog engulfing her body.

“Find the skull! If the Horseman reclaims his skull, he'll become whole again.”

“How?” Ichabod asked anxiously.

“The answers are in Washington's Bible. Wake up, wake up, now Ichabod, wake up!” She yelled as she disappeared into the mist and he woke with a start, his body thrashing on the bed.

His eyes opened wide as he looked to see some kind of white-cloaked person about to stab him with some sort of strange instrument. Abbie, bless her very soul, burst into his room and demanded, “Stop! I'm taking him back into custody.”

And before anyone could object she looked at him directly and said, “Crane, get your things.” Her voice was strong and without an inch to play, he grabbed his coat and was already walking along side when the nurse voiced her objection, “Officer, this man is not fit to be moved.”

It was lovely to watch her work, she was such a tiny thing but so fierce inside, it made him proud to know she was to be his companion, “Stand down and let me do my job! Crane, let's go.”

She pulled him closer and said, “Walk fast.” And suddenly Ichabod wished they were somewhere more private so he could sweep her in his arms and hug her for dear life. “We’ve got about one minute until she realizes that court order is a practice sheet from my Academy exam.”

He blinked, she was all business right now, _better catch up and fast Ichabod_ , “I know what the Horseman’s after,” he informed her.

Abbie drove as she told him about the files she found in Sheriff’s Corbin office, how finding the map wasn’t simply a coincidence and as she spoke he filled in the gaps of her story, they spoke as one, as smoothing and in tune as the inner workings of a clock.

“It’s all real.” They exclaimed in unison.

Ichabod carefully observed Abbie as she called for reinforcements, asking help from a guy named Andy, and also having to convince him that she was right and knew what The Horseman was after. How strange that their first date ended up in a cemetery digging up the Horseman of Death’s head to prevent or postpone - even for a little while - the start of the apocalypse?

Abbie watched him dig the grave and chanted to herself, _“This is disgusting, not sexy. Disgusting… so not sexy. Oh, lord. Did it open its eyes? How is this my life?!”_

 _Wonderful._ Now they were being chased by Andy as well as the Horseman. This night couldn’t get any worse. As the night progressed they learned two things: one, that they could rely on each other and two, they had a lot coming on their way.  It was time to figure out what Brooks had been hiding.

They were walking towards the cell where Brooks was being kept, when Ichabod suddenly asked, “Why did Captain Irving address me as Captain America?”

“It’s a pop-culture reference, Crane, never mind about that right now. Let’s check on Brooks and hope he will talk to us.”

 _Pop culture reference?_ Ichabod was still confused but somehow he knew Abbie would be his most cherished guide through it all.

Ichabod smiled to himself as he followed her until they reached the cells, but they were too late for Moloch had arrived earlier and reaped Brooks’ life. Abbie closed her eyes, her body shifted towards him just a little and he fisted his hands to keep from saying anything he might regret.

It took Ichabod another moment before he took a step towards Abbie and took her hand in his. It seemed Abbie had lost her words for a moment as well. She sighed loudly and caressed the top of his hand with her thumb before detangling her palm from his.  Abbie noticed how soft and strong his hands were for a soldier, she expected a rougher hand with scars and small wounds still healing but all she had found was warmth and safety - something she knew had never been there in previous relationships - and Crane had just stumbled in her life.

Ichabod glanced down their entwined hands, hers small and delicate, the color of fresh almonds while his hands were large, strong and much lighter, like foam over hot coffee. He nudged her hand and pulled her gently towards the door, he knew they had to inform Captain Irving of Brook’s death. Abbie smiled tenderly up at Ichabod and as she released his hand she realized she already missed his reassuring contact.

She entered Captain Irving’s office and explained what had happened, how Andy had warned them - her and Crane - that this evil could not be stopped. Irving seemed to understand there was more to it and advised them both to get some rest.

Ichabod noticed how withdrawn Abbie seemed after the events of the last couple hours, but decided to give her the space she needed.

“Let's go, I’m taking you to a hotel until I can figure out a better place for you to stay,” Abbie told him, walking in a stupor, wishing to be out of the station as fast as she humanly could.

“Lieutenant.” Ichabod's strong baritone voice reached her ears, gaining her attention.  She tilted her face towards him in an almost confused manner, her brows furrowing.

Sunlight bathed their skin as they stood outside the station and Abbie could finally get a clear look at this very strange revolutionary man - who might also to be her soulmate - in all his glory. It didn't pass by her unnoticed how the colors that were so monochromatic this morning were now assaulting her eyes with how vibrant they became the longer she looked at Crane.

“I do have a confession to make,” Ichabod continued, “Katrina...” He noticed the intake of breath Abbie took, how her pink lips were suddenly tight, but she hid her discomfort with a mask of resignation.

Then he did something she wasn't expecting. Ichabod stood in front of her and rested both his hands on each of her upper arms, the gentle pressure anchoring her - not that he needed to physically hold her, his piercing blue eyes would have done the job just as much - the touch though seemed to comfort them both.

“She lied and deceived me, most likely during the entire time we were betrothed and then married. She convinced me that I had found my soulmate…in her...”

“Crane,” Abbie's pleaded. _It_ _must be nice_ , she thought, _to have two soulmates in a lifetime._

“I didn’t know until I spoke to Katrina’s spirit that I lost my true soulmate long before I had the chance to meet her. And I believe that is the true reason I slept through more than 200 years, even if the Horseman of Death hadn't awoken, I am certain I would have risen from that grave for you, Abigail.” Somehow while he spoke his hands reached out and now engulfed her small hands inside his large ones. 

He admired her beauty, the way the sun’s orange rays kissed her cheeks and danced inside her irises.

“I’ve never noticed such colors, not until…you.” She confessed, finding his white pinkish skin a stark contrast to her darker one.

“I do not wish to burden you, not when we have just recently met and shared such a fateful destiny,” Ichabod said. “But if you allow me, I would very much like to navigate this new era by your side.”

Abbie nodded, releasing a breath she hadn't known she had been holding. His lips, rosy and tender, touched her forehead in reverence and she knew, from this moment onward, come heaven or hell they would be each other's everything.

From strangers to acquaintances, to friends and partners in this fight against Evil. Perhaps one day, to _lovers._


End file.
